


The One with the Kids

by rivlee



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Made Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of ficlets based on the never-ending regular adventures of Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and child-rearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One with the Girl Scout Cookies Discussion (Also Monsters)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/gifts).



> The One with the Girl Scout Cookies Discussion (Also Monsters).

“It’s complete utter fucking bullshit and you know it.”

Over the years Sam Wilson had grown used to his husband’s rants about injustices in the judicial system, how fucked up the world remained, the fact Hydra _still_ had cells out there, and the designated hitter, but his current one was going in the top ten of Steve Rogers Pitches a Hissy Fit.

He finished brushing his teeth and washing his face before leaning against the bathroom door jamb. Watching Steve undress while he went on a rant of epic proportions? Now that was in Sam’s personal top ten of things he loved to sit back and watch.

Steve pulled off his t-shirt with impunity and flung it across the room. “How the hell is it fair, huh? If Admiral fucking Brandon can help his granddaughter sell her cookies, than why can’t I help my own goddamned child?”

“You’ve got to admit it’s a little different in our case,” Sam said. “Admiral Brandon might hold sway with some Navy and Marines, but he’s no Captain America.”

Steve tugged off his jeans in disgust. “It’s not like I was going to stand out in front of Ellie’s table with the shield.”

Sam walked over to him and put his arms around Steve’s waist. He rested his head on Steve’s shoulder and pressed a soothing kiss behind his ear.

“Give yourself some credit. You’re just as famous for being Awesome Dad Steve Rogers as you are National Icon Steve Rogers.”

“Stop talking about me in tabloid headlines,” Steve muttered.

“Look, I know you’d be awesome at standing back and supporting Ellie and her fellow troops sell those cookies like no one’s business. I know the other girls in the troop adore you because you make the best s’mores of all the parents and guardians. I know how fucking important it is to you—and me—that you’re there for the big and little things in Ellie’s life. You have to acknowledge though, that your presence _might_ be a bit of a distraction and take the focus away from the girls and their task. It’s the price you pay for being you.”

Steve huffed but he didn’t argue. Sam pressed another kiss to his shoulder. “Still not as great or gorgeous as me of course, but thems the breaks.”

Steve’s laugh was quiet, but Sam could feel it roll through his body. He tightened his hold on Steve and felt him relax with each deep breath they took together.

“Fine, I’ll concede to it just this once, but if they start lagging behind in sales, I’m giving a proper endorsement. I’ll do it for the whole organization, of course, but fuck the other parents. If some rich lawyer can buy all his kid’s boxes to boost their troop’s sales forward, I’m not going to take that shit lying down.”

“Of course not,” Sam said. “Let me try it my way first though.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked. He turned in Sam’s arms. “What’s your strategy?”

Sam grinned. “I’m just going to smile at them.”

Steve ducked his head, pressed even closer and grazed Sam’s lips with his own.

“I like this plan,” he murmured. “It’s a good plan.”

“Worked on you,” Sam said, hands sliding up Steve’s back.

“That’s what you think,” Steve said.

Sam arched into Steve’s hands as they teased below the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh, so Natasha lied when she said you watched me run for two whole weeks before making your move?”

“I was after your ass first,” Steve said.

“And still are,” Sam said.

He had Steve inches from the bed when a soft knock sounded on the door.

“Papa? Daddy?” Ellie asked. Her voice was higher-pitched than usual. That could only mean one thing.

Sam gave Steve an apologetic kiss before he hurried over to the door.

Ellie looked up at him with big hazel eyes and pointed to her bedroom.

“Monsters,” she said.

“Bed or Closet?” Sam asked as he crouched down and picked her up.

“Both,” she whispered as she curled into him.

Steve appeared at his side, shield in one arm and flashlight in the other. He pressed a kiss to Ellie’s head.

“Don’t worry, baby bird. We got this.”


	2. The One with the Softball Game

“On what plane of existence is that a ball? Where did they get this umpire? Eleanor’s stuffed animals have a better sense of the strike zone and half of them are missing a head.”

“Worst. Sports. Dad. Ever,” Bucky said from his seat in the bleachers next to Sam as they watched Steve in the dugout. Bucky held an umbrella over the infant in Sam’s arms. “Also, we need to talk about Ellie.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if _someone_ didn’t tell her to put them in the washing machine after using them as target practice for her paintball gun.”

“I’m sorry your modern engineers developed a machine that likes to murder children’s toys instead of cleaning them, but this one is on you two. Aren’t you supposed to be saving the polar bears by hand washing everything like we did back in my day? You corrupt Rogers to your automatic dish and laundry washing ways and you get to deal with the consequences.”

“For a man with a decades-ahead-of-it’s-time arm, you’re such a luddite.”

“Yeah, well, your face,” Bucky said. He didn’t move the umbrella though.

“If those are your type of comebacks, I’m sending Ellie to Antoine and Melinda to learn her trash talking,” Sam said. “And you were my hope, since my glorious Ideal of American Morality husband told her to put up her dukes the next time some kid pulled her hair.”

Bucky’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “Seriously, everyone thought _I_ was the bad influence growing up because all the fights I got into, but it was only because _he_ started them.”

“Not a bad influence,” Sam said as he cradled Michelle closer. “You stole the child currently sleeping in my arms.”

“For the last friggin; time, I so did not steal her,” Bucky said. “I liberated her and a handful of other poor orphans from a fucking Hydra testing facility and took the time to find them suitable homes with the help of Bishop and Jones-Cage. Cage-Jones. Whatever the hell Jessica’s last name is professionally. I was responsible, damn it.” 

There was a loud cough to the side and Bucky looked over. He rolled his eyes at the woman glaring up at them. “Oh, I’m sorry is my fucking language more offensive than the fact your tax dollars went to support the grandchild of the Eugenics movement? You’re Amber Howard, correct? Wife of Donald Junior? He used to to take trips to Vegas with a certain senator, if my governmentally-approved fucked up brain recalls correctly.”

Sam loved to watch Bucky make the over privileged cringe in their designer sweats. He usually joined in, but he was a little busy between feeding Michelle, watching Steve go red with indignation, watching Ellie at the plate fouling off pitches just to piss off the umpire, and contemplating how many of the Capri Suns he could swipe from the cooler at his feet before Bucky growled at him to _think of the children, Wilson_. 

There was a loud sound of metal bat on softball and Sam grinned. Ellie just got her fourth home run of the season. Bucky kept the umbrella in place as he raised one metal fist in the air, probably blinding some poor kid in the outfield. 

“That’s the way you do it, Eleanor Josephine,” Steve called. “You work them tell they give you what you want!” He clapped his hands as the other two players cleared home plate. “Let’s go, Eagles!”

Bucky nudged Sam’s foot. “He does know he’s not an _official_ coach, right?”

Sam shrugged. “You’ve known him for a lifetime. How good are you at saying no to him?”

“Fair point,” Bucky said. 

Sam pushed Michelle’s empty bottle into one of Bucky’s fifty pockets. “I’m going to do a diaper check. Cheer as loud as you can for three of us.”

Bucky saluted him. “You got it, Wingman.” He closed up the umbrella and held out his hands for Michelle while Sam stood and stretched. “Got a knife and a phone on you just in case? Did Steve take out that spare clip I stuck in her diaper bag?”

“You are a paranoid man, James Barnes,” Sam said. 

They didn’t mention the stacks of threats piled somewhere in Sharon Carter’s office devoted solely to kidnapping the children of The Falcon and Captain America. The number had gone down since The Winter Soldier revealed himself and announced his permanent position as their bodyguard, along with the quiet and unequivocal support from the top brass in the Air Force from General Rhodes, but Sam and Steve both knew it’d always be a possibility. It sucked to live life in constant fear though, and Sam hadn’t gone through the shit he had to put his life on hold or raise his kids in a bubble. 

Still, Sam wasn’t naïve. He knew Sharon usually had a detail on them in addition to Bucky, that they always would, that being the type of public figures they were required it, and Sam always had _something_ strapped on him just in case. 

Michelle kicked her tiny feet at him while he changed her, giggling when he grabbed and kissed her little toes, before snapping her baseball-themed onesie up. He got her secured in the carrier strapped to his chest and was washing his hands when the door pushed open.

“Eleanor and Michelle?” Natasha asked. “Someone likes their First Ladies.” 

“Sarah, Riley, and Margaret were also options, but we decided to go with something else.” He dried his hands off and absolutely did not flinch when he turned around to find Natasha directly behind him.

She studied Michelle and barely grimaced when the baby grabbed a fistful of red hair.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “She does that sometimes.”

“She’s strong,” Natasha said with approval. “She’s happy. I saw Barnes in the stand. He told me about the op.”

“It was his first team run with Bradley and Bishop. They had no idea what they were going to find. Michelle was the youngest, and she was around a month old, we think.” It’d been a long time since they’d seen Natasha. “We missed you at the naming party.”

Natasha frowned. “I’ve been off the gird with Barton. I only just got the notice today.”

“Five months late,” Sam said. “Not your worst.”

“Not by far,” Natasha said. She tried to step back, but Michelle held fast.

Sam laughed at the look on Natasha’s face. “Want me to help you with that? I know you’re _the_ Natasha Romanoff, but I think you need an assist.”

“At least one that’s parental approved,” Natasha admitted. 

“Tickle her behind her ear,” Sam said. “Go on, do it. She doesn’t bite. Well, she might. Her teeth are tiny though.”

“I still bear a scar from your first attempt at child rearing,” Natasha said. She did as he instructed though and got free. “We should get back before Bucky orders a sweep of the public restrooms. We’ve been gone for too long.”

“Still scared of babies?” Sam asked.

Natasha held open the door. “I’m not scared of them; I just struggle to communicate with them. It’s not my area of expertise, but for what it’s worth, I think you’re giving them the best of everything.”

“Thanks, Natasha,” he said.

She never spoke of her childhood, little of her past in general, but Sam figured it didn’t take a genius to figure out it wasn’t shiny, happy times. She always participated in Ellie’s tea parties if asked though, and she’d been the first one they turned two when Ellie asked if she could take a gymnastics course. They would only let her have a Natasha Romanoff approved instructor. 

Sam kissed the top of Michelle’s head and absolutely did not think about what could’ve possibly been done to her if Bucky and his team hadn’t found that lab. 

“So, how was wherever you’ve been?” he asked.

“Hot,” Natasha said. “Then cold, of course. Rainy and then dry. I ate some good things and some bad. It was a grand, old time.”

“Barton still breathing?”

“Barely,” Natasha said. “He broke his nose again. I had nothing to do with it, before you ask.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Sam promised. “Kate might.”

Natasha shrugged. “She’s his responsibility in my off-hours.” 

She walked with him until they reached the bleachers. It only occurred to him then that she might’ve been escorting him. 

“Any chatter?” he asked.

“Nope,” Natasha said. “I just know Sharon’s on-site and I know how good I look in these jeans.” She winked at Sam. “Give Rogers a kiss for me.”

Sam sat down next to Bucky and passed Michelle over into his greedy, eager hands.

“You look confused,” Bucky said. “Do we need to like, explain anatomy or something to you? You’re supposed to know that shit better than the rest of us.”

“How long have Sharon and Natasha been a thing?” he asked.

Bucky whistled as he bounced Michelle on his knee. “An observant man gets kids and suddenly he can’t see shit. At least three years, Wilson. I think they hooked-up a few times before that too, but I don’t really question Natasha or Sharon on their private lives. I’ve been shot enough, thanks.”

“Huh,” Sam said.

Bucky nudged him back to reality. “Ellie’s about to steal third base.”

************

The house still smelled like the garlic bread from dinner and the lavender-scent of Michelle’s baby lotion when Sam fell face-first into bed. 

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” he muttered into his pillow.

“Steady now, Murtaugh,” Steve said. 

Sam could hear the smile in his voice. It would be sweet if Steve didn’t sound the least bit exhausted from a day of cheering on a softball team; taking both teams out for ice cream after the Eagles won; staying there for three hours longer than planned to sign autographs, pose for pictures, and talk to everyone last man, woman, child, and dog that came up to him; cook dinner; help give both kids a bath; help Bucky plan his next op; and linger outside the door while Ellie read _Sideways Stories from Wayside School_ to Bucky. 

Sam had to meet with General Rhodes the next _afternoon_ and he still wasn’t sure he’d be up and moving by then. 

The bed dipped and Steve’s hands rested on Sam’s shoulders. Sam sent a prayer of thanks to whatever god was listening when those same hands started to message the tense muscles of his back. 

“You know, Bucky said with as many times as you’ve blown me over our decade-plus relationship, some of the serum should have drifted into your system by now. I mean, it’s just a theory, but you are quite—”

“If you say anything along the lines of _young for your age_ I am officially leaving you for Sharon or Antoine or both.”

“I was going to say _spry_.” 

Sam was too tired to do much more than flip Steve off. Besides, if he ever did leave they’d have to get in a custody battle over Bucky, and nothing in the world was sadder than seeing a centenarian pout, much less _two_ of them. 

“I’m going to be in my sixties when Michelle goes to college,” he said. “I’m going to finally go grey, and you’re still going to look like your recruitment poster from almost a century ago.”

It was one of those things they were good at not talking about—how Steve and Bucky were still essentially frozen in time minus some scars and the tiniest of wrinkles while everyone else around them aged. Isiah Bradley, one of Sam’s personal heroes growing up, was also on that list, but at the cost of his cognitive abilities. Eli, his grandson, was now also in that group thanks to a blood transfusion. Sam loved Natasha, but he still had his suspicious about her and Barton as well. No one could remain thirty-five for _that_ long naturally, no matter how much they joked, and that didn’t even count the fact that he knew Natasha should be in her early-forties. 

The growing old part didn’t scare Sam. Neither did the idea of getting left behind. It was all about what would happen after he…

“Stop it,” Steve said. “I can tell when you’re thinking about sad shit we do not talk about in this bedroom, and fuck no.”

Sam nodded, not really wanting to think about it right now either. Despite it all, it had been a great day. He turned over and looked up at Steve’s eyes, to see his face gone serious and determined. It was the Captain face.

Sam cupped his cheek. “So, did you see our daughter hit that ball out of the proverbial park?”

Steve grinned, kissed Sam’s palm, and nuzzled his wrist. “You think it’s too early to think about the Olympics?”

“She’s ten, Steve,” Sam said. He shook his head. “Why the hell not? They finally agreed to include it in the Summer Games again, you could probably do enough press and influential support to make sure it stays there until Ellie’s eligible. Just remember, she loves basketball too.”

Steve made a face, but didn’t say anything. The baseball vs basketball debate would never be won in this house. 

“Shower?” he asked instead, eyes bright again and smile eager, back to regular Steve. “Unless you’re too old for that too.”

Sam _was_ too old to tackle his husband on to the floor, but fuck it. Steve was a super-soldier. He could take it.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a tumblr prompt from ama. Not beta read.


End file.
